


stylish when you got nothin’ on

by skipperoo



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ass Play, Cumshot, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, F/M, Female Reader, Fingering, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Smut, Squirting, bazz is alive idc what u say kubo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:41:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24701008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skipperoo/pseuds/skipperoo
Summary: Ikkaku’s Halloween party just isn’t doing it for you and Bazz.
Relationships: bazz-b/reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	stylish when you got nothin’ on

**Author's Note:**

> is this really the first work in bazz/reader wow umm the tag doesn’t even really officially exist T_T anyway title is from skin by mac miller and many thanks to my writing assistant

“How the fuck does this work,” Bazz grunts into your mouth as his hands yank at the silk bow on your lower back. His fingers aren’t nearly coordinated enough to undo the simple knot.

“Just — untie it.”

“I’m trying.” You feel a sharp tug and Bazz grumbles. “Made it worse. Why’d you fuckin tie it so tight.”

“Didn’t want it to come off.”

Bazz’s irritation is palpable. “I’m not fucking you in this. I don’t have a vampire fetish. I’m not Renji.”

“Ugh, you’re so — just untie it,” you huff, squirming between his arms.

“M’trying.”

Bazz’s fingers go back to yanking on the knot of your bow. The material is cheap and stiff, but surprisingly sturdy for a trashy costume you picked up an hour before the party. The Halloween stores never seem to let the slutty vampire costumes go out of stock. Considering you weren’t even planning on attending this party until three hours ago, you’re grateful to have it. Shredded black mini skirt, stretchy sleeves, lace, and all. It’s held together with the giant black bow just above your ass, and the two of you are having a hell of a time undoing it after drinking and breathing in the noxious fumes of Ikkaku’s apartment. You honestly can’t tell if you’re smelling weed or his natural rank at this point.

After another tense thirty seconds spent in silence as he works on the knot, Bazz huffs again. “Okay, just, fuck this — I’m gonna rip it.” His hands jump to the fake corset top, fingers digging into the braided laces.

“What, no, Bazz don’t — ” He tugs sharply, a loud poppoppop echoing in the room. The chest is significantly looser. “Bazz.”

“You spent like 20 bucks on this. Max.” He is completely unbothered by your glare as he continues to tug your now ruined costume down. “Help me.”

“You’re such an asshole,” you grumble as he bunches the stiff fabric and pulls down, the rest of the seams of the torso snapping as they’re forced to accommodate the shape of your body. It barely peels off your shoulders and gets caught on your hips. Bazz snorts when you have to wriggle and shimmy (“like a worm,” he sees fit to inform you) your way out of the bodice and it finally falls free with a final, loud riiiiiip. “I hate you.”

“I got it off, you’re welcome,” he says and gathers the tatters of your costume and tosses it on the bed. He covers it with a couple t-shirts lying on the floor. “Don’t have towels,” he explains when you send him a curious glance and when you go to whine further, he adds, “You’re gonna make a mess and I don’t wanna get it on the sheets.”

You feel the burn of embarrassment cover the back of your neck and your face. “You never care about the sheets.”

“When they’re my sheets.”

Through your fairly mild buzz, you suddenly recall that -- oh yes, this is in fact not Bazz’s apartment and not his bed. You don’t know how you managed to drown out the music from downstairs considering you can feel the thumping of the boosted bass in your bone marrow, Ikkaku’s Halloween playlist on full blast. How anyone, drunk or otherwise, can function when the music is projected at a decibel that rattles teeth is beyond you.

But Ikkaku and the others don’t seem to mind. Then again, Ikkaku was stupid enough to leave his bedroom unlocked at a party with a bunch of plastered college students and recent graduates.

A fact that Bazz keeps reminding you as he tugs you closer to the bed. Your hands fumble with the button of his jeans, yanking the hem of his shirt up from beneath his waistband. “You’re not even dressed up,” you complain. “You made me look dumb.”

“I’m Uryuu,” Bazz snorts and you pause to squint at his “costume” -- faded blue jeans, a white polo, slicked hair, and wire-rimmed glasses. It’s actually pretty-spot on for your honor student friend. “And I’m not what made you look dumb.” Bazz looks pointedly at the remains of your costume.

The button of his jeans pops open and you pull down his zipper. “Keep making fun of my costume and I’ll leave,” you threaten, narrowing your eyes.

Bazz looks relatively unbothered, calling your bluff. “You’re the one who said ‘this party’s boring, let’s fuck’.”

His dick is already half hard, a solid handful in the generous crotch of his boxers. It twitches eagerly against your palm as you test the weight and warmth of it, Bazz’s nostrils flaring and his hips shifting.

“If I didn’t, you were gonna.” You smirk.

He doesn’t deny that. Bazz’s dark eyes travel to your mouth where they linger before he pulls you up and into another kiss. His lips are soft and a little chapped from the cold weather, his tongue tasting like whatever drink was in his cup -- some kind of whiskey. You moan, stomach dipping in excitement.

Bazz’s hands travel from your neck to grab two fistfulls of your ass and force your pelvis against his. You can feel the swell of his cock grind against your lace panties while his hands start to guide your hips in a gentle rocking motion. The sensation makes your whole body shiver, the now-hard line of his dick just barely catching some of the sensitive bits hidden by your underwear.

Bazz noses his way down your throat, teeth catching your skin. His lips fall to the spot where your neck meets your shoulder and he sucks impatiently, eager to bruise you up.

Your breath escapes you in a whine, your hips pressing harder and harder against his cock.

Bazz grunts, one hand leaving your ass just to immediately return for a soft slap that makes your flesh jiggle and sting in just the right way. “On the bed,” he says, nicking your collar bone and squeezing your cheeks one last time.

You scramble for the mattress, shucking off your black lace bra as you go. It lands somewhere in the room but you don’t think twice about it as you lay down on the cheap, scratchy pile of t-shirts and wait for Bazz to undress. He shoves his jeans down the rest of the way, along with his boxers, kicking them across the room. His fingers aren’t coordinated enough to undo the single button at the throat of his polo so he yanks it over his head and tosses it with the rest of his clothes before crawling on top of you.

“These too,” you say as you reach to remove the wire-rimmed glasses from his face. “I don’t wanna think about Uryuu when we’re fucking.”

“You wouldn’t and you know it,” Bazz says with confidence. He sits back on his heels, his hands smoothing down your stomach and waist until they rest on your hips. His thumbs tease the waistband of your panties and you squirm under his knowing gaze. “You never intended to stay at this party.”

“Don’t get cocky, I just like wearing matching lace sets,” you huff, but he’s unconvinced.

His fingers travel down to your lace-covered pussy and he massages you gently, trying to get you warmed up. You practically melt in his hands, feeling all the blood in your body slowly travel downward, your muscles relaxing and warming. Bazz can feel how you’ve softened and tugs the panties down your legs before pushing your thighs up and out.

“You’re not very wet,” he observes, a thumb coming to stroke the outside of your lips.

“The alcohol.” You roll your hips. “Eat me out, get me ready.”

Bazz scoffs. “Anyone ever tell you, you have a way with words.”

“Just shut up and make me cum.”

“So eloquent,” he drawls.

Your bitten response turns into a low groan as Bazz starts to massage you again in circles, stimulating your clit but not touching it directly. He leans down and tongues the flesh of your inner thigh, nipping the soft skin and sending jolts straight to your pussy.

By now, he’s a master at this. Most guys just dive right in to the main attraction. They think fingering is the foreplay and you used to agree -- sometimes they’d get you to cum, other times not. Their goal was to get you ready for their dick. But then came Bazz. The first time you fucked, he made you cum just by eating you out -- no fingers, no vibrators, just his tongue. Bazz liked making you cum; that was a first for you.

And he only got better with time. You can honestly say there are very few men who could take the place of your favorite rabbit vibrator but Bazz is definitely one. He’s brought you pleasure in ways you didn’t even think were possible for you.

You are patient as Bazz spreads you open with his thumbs, his hot breath teasing your sensitive flesh. His dark eyes flash to yours before he draws back and spits on your exposed pink softness, making you jump. Slender fingers quickly rub his saliva into your pussy, making you wet and sticky and you shift your hips with a little whimper.

“You like when I spit on your pussy,” he says.

“Mmhmm.” You roll your hips to follow the movement of his hand and he leans down to spit on your butterflied cunt again. It’s warm and slick and nasty -- just the way you like it.

Bazz keeps rubbing his spit into your pussy, spreading the wetness around. And when he feels like he’s covered enough, he spreads you open again and presses the flat of his tongue directly against your clit.

You can’t help the way your body jerks, the response automatic. The wetness of his saliva and the firm pressure of his tongue is the perfect combination. The sudden shock of pleasure turns into a glowing warmth that spreads throughout your body and you slowly relax back into the mattress.

“Love when you eat me out like this,” you sigh, squeezing your own breasts together before one of your hands strokes down the length of your body to slide into his hair. Your fingers card through the colored strands, wrecking his pressed style in a silent plea.

“I know.” Bazz says the words directly against your pussy, grinning when your breathing hitches. He laves his tongue against your clit again just to make you shiver and whimper.

And when he can tell the pleasure is starting to build, he switches back to nipping your inner thigh and using the palm of his hand to massage and rub. The change makes you whine and lift your hips, your fingers tugging the roots of his hair.

“Stop playing and make me cum.” Staring down the length of your body, you give him a glare.

Bazz’s teeth sink into the soft flesh of your thigh again before he answers. “I’ll make you cum just like I always do,” he promises. It feels almost like a threat.

Your orgasms are never soft or quiet -- they’re loud, messy, and exhausting. But if there’s one thing Bazz loves, it’s making you cum. He’s admitted to you, more than once, that he could get off on that alone and the knowledge always does funny things to your stomach, flipping it in a way that almost feels like love.

The simpering whine you release as he continues to grind his hand against your warm, sticky lips makes him grin. You bare your teeth, prepared to snap at him -- because he knows you hate it when he teases and edges you like this -- but Bazz shuts you up before you can even open your mouth, shoving his face directly against your pussy. He devours you with expertise, tongue firm against your clit and lips soft as they kiss and suck every wet inch of you. And he isn’t quiet about it. Bazz lets himself splurge, putting an emphasis on the soft wet sounds because he knows you love it.

It’s almost perfect. The only thing that would make it better was if --

Bazz’s hands shift to your ass again, pulling your cheeks apart and you go very still. He looks up at you with dark eyes from between your legs, nose and chin glossy, as he draws back and spits directly on your exposed ass, never blinking.

Your heart jumps into your throat with anticipation, lungs catching. This is what you’ve been waiting for.

“Bazz,” your voice falters, bordering on desperate.

“Is this what you want?” Bazz’s index finger works his spit against your rim. “You want this?”

“Yes,” you growl, too strung-out to play his games. “Yes, fuck, put your fingers in my ass.”

He makes a noise in the back of his throat, finger pressing firmly against you. “Love it when you say that,” he rasps and spits on your asshole and his finger again, making you whine with pure want.

“Yeah, gets you off, doesn’t it?” Your voice is breathy, the tip of his finger easily pushing past the ring of muscle. He sinks past the first knuckle all the way to his last, your body familiar with and welcome to the intrusion.

“You love it more.” Bazz’s mouth dips back to your cunt.

Your jaw opens loose as a low, satisfied moan is ripped from your throat. Finally, he’s right where you’ve wanted him all night. His tongue in your pussy and his finger in your ass; his spit is definitely no substitute for lube, so his finger drags and pinches but it’s still good. Everything you crave.

When he removes his finger, only to shove it back in, you bite your lip. “Fuck, yes.”

The orgasm that’s been building in you since he ripped your panties off flares to life, burning at an almost frightening intensity. It doesn’t take much to make you cum like this, which is why Bazz likes to take his time with you and draw it out beforehand. Like a cat toying with its prey.

You feel it in the pit of your core, that telltale pressure that continues to build as he tongues your clit and fingers your ass.

Your hips start to lift off the bed, a sign of the inevitable. “So good, Bazz, oh my god - ”

“You gonna squirt?” he mutters wetly. Your head bobs frantically, lower muscles beginning to clench. “Go on, baby, squirt -- cum all over me.”

“Shit!”

Everything below your waist starts to tremble, Bazz’s lips firm on your clit and his finger pumping at a steady pace to carry you through. He pulls away at the last second, leaning back to watch you burst and using his other hand to strum your pussy rapidly, the last push you need. You finally cum, Bazz’s slim fingers sending the spray in every direction. All over your thighs and hips and all over his hands and forearms.

Your voice carries over in a loud squeal, only getting louder when Bazz continues to flick his hand over your raw pussy. He keeps rubbing until there’s no more to give and your voice breaks under the constant stimulation.

“Oh my god, oh fuck, Bazz — fuck,” you pant, collapsing back onto the damp sheets. You curl away from his hands when he tries to touch your still-throbbing clit again. “Gimme a second, shit…”

Bazz snorts and withdraws the finger still nestled deep in your ass. “You’re wet enough now,” he states almost smugly, but you’re too focused on the suddenly empty feeling, missing that slender finger inside you. “Too tired for your hands and knees?”

As much as you want to snark back and flip yourself over, your legs are jelly. You know you won’t last even five minutes in that position.

Still trying to steady your breathing, you nod. “Want it like this.”

Missionary is underrated anyway. Bazz nods, prying your legs open again and settling his dick right over your cunt, dewy and slick. You’re still too sensitive so he just rolls his hips slightly, sliding his cock against your warm, used flesh. Every time the ridge of his frenulum catches on your clit, you gasp and shudder.

His lips are a little red, maybe a little plumper, from having spent so much time between your thighs. His chin is still shiny with your cum. And it just makes you want to kiss him even more. As he rocks against you, you pull him into your arms and lick across the seam of his mouth so he opens for you.

The kiss is wet, lazy, and used. Just like the rest of you.

You wiggle your hips when you’re ready and Bazz pulls back to cup one of your knees. “Finally, been teasing me all night,” he grumbles. His voice drops an octave lower when he uses the thumb of his other hand to nudge the head of his dick down to your hole.

The greedy maw sucks him in eagerly, drawing sighs of relief from both of you.

“Fuck,” you whine at the sudden stretch. “Yes.”

“You’re always so — ngh, tight, after you squirt,” Bazz pants, face contorting. “Holy shit.” He bottoms out in seconds, hips pressed flush against the back of your thighs.

You squeak when his dick touches the deepest part of you, a little shock of pleasure. And instantly, you’re starving for more, circling your hips and clawing at his shoulders to get him to move.

“You’re so goddamn impatient.” He chokes as he pulls out. “God.”

His hips roll, starting a slow and shallow pace. But it’s just to get him warmed up to the motions — slow and shallow is saved for one of those rare occasions where Bazz feels like being sentimental. Now, with the alcohol fuzzing your brains and the thrum of the stereo from the floor below, he’s feeling anything but sentimental.

He fucks you hard, deep, the way that makes your toes curl and your back arch. Long strokes that touch every part of your insides.

“Ngh, yes, fuck me hard. Wanna feel it,” you gasp, as if he isn’t already fucking you hard.

Bazz huffs, bending down to sink his teeth into your nipple just to hear you yelp. But he complies nonetheless, shifting your pelvis just slightly so that he can go even deeper. The change is minute but you swear you can feel his dick in your guts and it burns so good, so perfect.

It hasn’t even been five minutes and he’s about to wring another orgasm out of you.

“Gonna make you, fucking, squirt again.” He growls the words into the sweaty skin of your chest, latching on to suck a purple bruise. It makes the side of your breast throb and he nips it for good measure, your hips kicking in reflex.

“Fuck yes, make me,” you yelp again on a sharp thrust, “make me cum. Wanna fucking cum, all over your dick -- ”

You know exactly what to say, Bazz’s hips stuttering. He grunts under his breath, something about you being a fucking menace, before his hands are on the backs of your thighs and shoving them up towards your chest. It’s tight, your body folded in half, and it makes your cunt squeeze him that much tighter.

“Oh my g--” Your mouth opens but the words are replaced by short moans that Bazz fucks out of you.

“Like that?”

“Fuck yeah, feels good.” The words are gasped between hard pushes of his cock up in your ribcage. “Gonna cum soon.”

“Yeah, fuck.” One of Bazz’s hands finds the slippery mess of your pussy, slender fingers rubbing your clit in circles. It's sticky, like the backs of your thighs and his hips.

Your voice steadily rises in pitch the longer the pads of his fingers flick over your clit and his cock hammers you into the mattress. And honestly, it’s not even fair how easily he can get you to cum. In just a few turns of his wrist, you shriek and burst all over again. Your cunt spasms so strongly that Bazz’s dick pops out and he immediately grabs it to rub it against your clit as you spray all over yourself.

“Holy shit, holy shit, oh my g--ngh, Bazz -- ” You grapple for him, clutching at his shoulders as the lower half of your body shakes and writhes uncontrollably. He’s calm and steady and his cock is hot and pressed right up against your sore clit, working you through the high as he watches you with those dark eyes.

You squeak when its over, legs flopping down uselessly. Your chest heaves, heart galloping, as Bazz settles between your thighs again, sinking back into you with a low moan that tickles your belly.

He fucks short now. Hard, fast strokes that almost make you scream because you never fully came down from your last orgasm and holy fuck it feels so good it almost hurts.

Bazz’s grunting with every flex of his hips, his loud magenta hair matted to his forehead. The sweat beading just above his upper lip, that curls as he fucks a little deeper on the downstroke like a stutter, tells you he’s close.

And not two minutes later, he’s rasping that to you. “Fuck, gonna cum. Gonna cum all over you.”

He could cum inside you, he knows that. But, more than once, Bazz’s admitted that there’s just something about cumming on you that makes his cock throb. He’s probably painted every inch of your body in his cum by now and that thought, as grimy and dirty as it is, makes your pussy clench and your toes curl.

“Want it,” you rake your nails over his shoulders and push your hips up, “gimme your cum.”

“F--uck, ____ -- ” Bazz stutters again, his rhythm almost in tatters. He pushes himself up, holding out one of your legs to bet a better view of his cock burying itself in your shiny, swollen cunt. He keeps your other leg tucked over his hip, his grip on your thigh bruising. “Gonna cum,” he gasps. “Hold yourself open.”

Your hands fly down to your pussy, prying your soft lips apart just like he wants. Bazz pulls out of you with a grunt, thumbing his dick right over your gaping emptiness. He doesn’t even need to finish himself off, immediately cumming in thick streams, each a flash of heat on your already hot and overused flesh.

“Fuck,” Bazz repeats, drawing in deep breaths until he’s finished. His hips push forward shallowly, rubbing his cum into your pussy.

The thick globs run down your lips and the crease of your ass, an uncomfortable and familiar feeling that makes you grimace. But before you can complain, Bazz drops his hand back to your pussy with a drawling grin.

“One more time,” he demands, and the protest dies in your throat.

Two of his fingers delve into your silky wet depths, reaching deep. He curls them in just the right way and flicks his wrist, drawing the ugliest, sopping noises from between your legs. Your thighs tremble, closing and trapping his hand in pure reflex. But Bazz shoves them apart again, his other hand pressing down on your pelvis while the fingers inside you work to bring you to the fastest orgasm of your life.

“Shit! Bazz!” Your hands sink into his sweaty hair, yanking.

“Need a finger in your ass or are you gonna cum?”

You shake your head frantically, biting down a sarcastic response as your body focuses on the release that’s so close. “Gonna--cum!”

Bazz’s fingers curl again, grinding against the spot and suddenly you’re there. He jerks his fingers out at the last second to thumb your clit as you gush all over your inner thighs, the bed, and Bazz’s hands -- again. It’s not as strong as the first two but it’s still powerful enough to make your eyes cross.

“Oh my god!”

You collapse backwards, shaking and shuddering as your body pieces itself back together. Everything below your waist feels kind of numb, but in a strangely satisfying way. Cumming that hard, that many times, always leaves you exhausted. You’re too tired to even think about leaving the soaking mess of the bed beneath you.

Bazz flops down next to you, equally sweaty, sticky, exhausted, and satisfied. You curl away from him when his thigh brushes yours.

“Touch my pussy right now and I’ll bite your dick next time you want a blowjob,” you heave, trying to catch your breath.

He just snorts, chest rising and falling in time with yours. “Lucky for you I've used up all my energy. You’re high maintenance, you know that?”

“You’ve got no one to blame but yourself,” you sass back. And it’s true, because if not for Bazz you don’t know if you would have ever become so sexually ravenous.

“We should go.” Bazz says it reluctantly after you’ve both caught your breath. It was still and quiet for a long while, long enough for you to accidentally doze. You whine, still not fond of standing or walking or moving. “Ikkaku’s bed is disgusting.”

The reminder gives you a tiny boost of energy — you and Bazz just fucked on Ikkaku’s bed. And you soaked it. By all accounts, you should be rightfully mortified. But the lingering alcohol acts like a buffer and you shove down the embarrassment as you begrudgingly roll out of the giant wet spot.

You land in an ungraceful heap on the floor, pushing hair out of your eyes. And it’s there that you realize —

“Fuck. What am I supposed to wear?”

Your costume is ruined — ripped to shreds and stained with cum. It’s unsalvageable.

Bazz balls up the material and tosses it in Ikkaku’s trash can before shrugging bare shoulders. “There’s a closet and a dresser right there. Take your pick.”

“And you say I’m the nasty one,” you scoff as you rummage through Ikkaku’s drawers for a t-shirt.

You manage to find one long enough to cover down to your knees. Downstairs, people are either passed out, puking, or too hammered to notice you and Bazz skulk out the front door. You can still feel the thrum of the music vibrate through your bare feet and it’s then, as your toes dig into the wet grass, that you realize you lost your shoes somewhere.

You didn’t like that pair anyway.

Bazz’s sobered up enough to manage the drive back to your apartment, which he announces a little bitterly. He didn’t expect his buzz to wear off so soon. Neither did you. But you make it up to him halfway home by sliding your hand down his pants.

He pulls over and you let him push your head into his lap.

**Author's Note:**

> maybe more bazz or some bazz/reader/renji? let me know LOL


End file.
